


Twenty Twenty

by aapicula



Series: Words of the Day [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, dictionary word of the day, happy new year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aapicula/pseuds/aapicula
Summary: As the last few moments of 2019 tick away, Dean and Cas try to build a bridge.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Words of the Day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589242
Kudos: 19





	Twenty Twenty

**Author's Note:**

> My 2020 resolution is to write more. I don't want to start something huge and fail, then feel bad about myself, so I figured some drabbles set around the dictionary.com word of the day would be a cool and low-key way to get myself back into writing.
> 
> Unbetaed and barely edited, so be gentle.

Fifteen minutes to go. 

The bunker is quiet. Sam has retreated to his room, Eileen close behind. Castiel is somewhere, probably the library. He gives Dean a wide berth these days, even after his return to the bunker. Dean isn’t sure if he’s grateful. In any case, he’s alone in the kitchen, silence blanketing him and magnifying the thoughts he’d rather keep locked up.

The edge of the table is rough underneath his fingers, and Dean idly traces the grain as he thinks. There’s a glass of bourbon closeby, nearly gone, and he supposes he should grab another before midnight.

Another year gone. Another year he didn’t think he would survive, on some levels didn’t  _ want _ to survive. The past twelve months haven’t been kind, and they’re drowning in their losses. Mom. Jack. Rowena, even if she was living her best death in Hell. Even Ketch. Their deaths were a bitter tang of failure on the back of his throat. And he can’t even think of the bridges he’s burned this past year, of the friendships and other things that have been broken.

He’s lost in the painful memories when a splinter of wood lodges in his thumb, and he draws back with a soft hiss. A bead of blood stands out against his pale skin, and the chunk of wood has dug straight down into his flesh. Motherfuck, that was going to be a bitch to get out.

“Are you all right?”

He jumped, startled. Cas stood in the doorway, his gaze a mixture of wary and concerned. It was better than the hurt disinterest the angel had been trying to project these past weeks. 

“M’fine,” Dean mutters, grabbing the last of his bourbon. Cas’s gaze didn’t waver. “Splinter.”

Cas crosses the room to crouch next to him, and Dean can’t help but recoil. Pretends he didn’t see the flash of pain cross Cas’s face. When Cas speaks, his voice is steady, careful.

“It’s still in there. It’s deep. Let me help.” It isn’t a request. He knows he should say something, should remind Cas that his powers are failing ( _ as if he needs reminding _ ) and he can take care of something as trivial as a splinter. But Dean doesn’t try to pull back any further. He’d pulled back enough, he figures. Instead, he angles his hand towards Cas, letting out a slow breath when he sees the familiar gold light.

Cas’s grace suffuses his hand, spreading warm tingles all the way up his arm. Even after all these years, the countless times Cas has healed him from various injuries, Dean is still mesmerized by the sensation, overwhelming even though it’s performing the smallest amount of healing. Feeling Cas’s grace has always felt like coming home.

What is different, though, is the small grunt that escapes Cas’s lips as the light fades. He looks decidedly pale, and his mouth is set in a tight grimace. All at once, the warmth leaves him, replaced with fear and anger and frustration. 

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean hissed as he pulled the angel up to the seat next to him.He holds onto his arm a beat longer than is strictly necessary. The material of the trench coat is rough under his fingers, and he has to force himself to let go. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were hurt.” Cas’s voice was small, and he wouldn’t meet Dean’s gaze. He still looks shaken. “I wanted to help.”

His words send a sharp pang of guilt through Dean’s gut. He’s only ever wanted to help. And all Dean ever does is hurt him.

“I’m not mad, Cas. I’m worried.” He moved slightly, his shoulder brushing Cas’s. A small olive branch is still an olive branch. And it’s the best he can muster right now.

“It’s almost midnight.” The non sequitur doesn’t go unnoticed, but Dean chooses not to comment. He doesn’t know what he’d say to help, and it’s not like Cas wants to hear anything he has to say anyway.

“Good riddance.” He means it. This year has been hell (even to an expert on the subject), and he’s more than happy to leave it behind. Cas shifts next to him, a warm and solid presence, and Dean is suddenly desperate to hang onto this moment of peace between them. “Any resolutions?”

He means for it to come out as a lighthearted joke, but there’s too much. Too much pain between them, too much history. Too much. Cas turns towards him, his gaze sharp, and all at once Dean is falling and held fast by the blue eyes staring through him. His breath catches in his throat, and Cas’s gaze falls to his lips, just for a split second. Just for long enough. 

“A few.” His timbre is lower than usual, the rough gravel of his voice soft in the silence of the kitchen. “I’ve never found it particularly helpful to find new purpose in an arbitrary marking of the passage of time.” Of course he didn’t. “But there are some things I’d like to accomplish before-” He paused a moment, searching for his words. “During this year.”

Dean nodded. He didn’t need any more explanation. A quick glance at his watch showed 11:59. The ‘arbitrary marking of the passage of time’ was nearly there, and maybe, just maybe, this next year would be better?

“Happy new year, Cas.” He shifts again, towards Cas’s warmth. To his credit, Cas doesn’t move away.

“Happy new year, Dean.”

Maybe, just maybe, they would be all right.


End file.
